


Between Flowers and Sills

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cat Ears, College AU, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Keith is a cat, Light Angst, M/M, Shapeshifting, galra - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2020-01-15 18:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18505081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Keith is a lot of things. He's an orphan. He's a shapeshifter. He's also 23 and trying to make it through college. He's also, maybe a little desperate, and it has bitten him in the ass in the form of some very insistent bill collectors.Anon requested: Shiro finds a tiny stray black cat on the street one day and (being a softy and a cat person) takes it in. It's sick and malnourished and he pours all his love into healing it up until one day he comes back from work and finds a young man sitting on his couch waiting for him."Hello, I'm your cat. My name is Keith."(the reason why Keith is a cat is up to you!! The fluffier the better ^u^ )It didn't exactly shape up like that, anon, but I hope you still like it.





	1. Fog comes on little cat feet

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "The Cats Will Know" by Cesare Pevese

Keith feels the exposed brick dig into the back of his head. He had ducked behind a dumpster to hide from one of Sendak’s goons, and he thinks about falling asleep there despite the frigid weather and the horrifying smelling pool of liquid inches from his tattered sneakers.

His eyes feel gritty with lack of sleep. He’s been on the run for at least a day and a half, using his knowledge of the city to duck Sendak and his associates. He pulls his hands into the sleeves of his jacket and blinks blearily.

He's quickly running out of options.

He simply doesn’t have the money he owes Sendak or the interest he's demanding, not even after Galra Lending drained his bank account. He should have known better than to try to make a deal with someone as shady as Sendak, but he was so close to finishing school.

Now he has nowhere to live and no way to get to class. Not to mention he's being pursued by a gang of determined Galra lackeys.

He only has one option left, but he thinks he knows where to go.

He sighs and closed his eyes. A few moments later, a sleek black cat darts from behind the dumpster and sprints away.

 

.  
“We’ve got another one,” Matt sighs, dropping his book bag with a loud thump by the door and kicking off his shoes.

“Already?” Shiro takes a sip of tea and rubs at the ache between his eyebrows. “We just found a home for the last two yesterday.”

Matt shrugs.

“I guess we’re getting a reputation as the neighborhood softies. You feeding all the ferals every morning probably doesn’t help.”

It's Shiro’s turn to shrug.

“Better on our porch than a bag off a bridge,” he replies. He stands and heads to check the porch.

Usually, people leave their surrendered animals in carriers or cages, but this cat's just sitting on the porch, statuesque and patient. It's a glossy, medium-haired black cat, too skinny but still a beautiful creature.

“Hi, kitty,” Shiro says in his 'disarm the unfamiliar animal' voice. “You hungry?”

The cat chirrups and bounds forward to wind around Shiro’s legs, almost like he understands the words. Shiro laughs and bent down to offer his hand for scenting or pets.

The cat stands on its hind legs and rubs its head against his hand.

“You’re sweet."

The cat, a male, Shiro thinks, lets out a cute meow in response and walks to the door. He sits down and waits for Shiro to open it.

“You’re no stray." He chuckles and opens the door for the cat, which walks in politely and looks around the apartment.

Shiro walks to the cabinet and gets out a cat bowl, cracking a can of wet food into it. The cat jumps up on the counter nimbly and looks on with interest, cocking his head and looking at the can almost like he's reading it. Shiro eyes the cat, raising an eyebrow.

“Does this meet your standards, sir?” He laughs. The cat meows again and hops off the counter to wait at his feet.

Shiro sets down the bowl of food and a bowl of water, wondering why such a beautiful cat was dropped here.

“Hey, Matt? Was it just the cat?”

Matt yells from his bedroom, “What do you mean, was it just the cat?”

Shiro sighs and cracks his neck as the cat neatly eats its bowl of beef and gravy.

“Was there a note or anything?” He bellows back.

“Oh!” Shiro hears a clatter, meaning Matt deigns to be in the same room for their conversation instead of shouting across the apartment like they're an old married couple.

Matt topples into the door jamb, still pulling his head through a threadbare Garrison tee. “Yeah, no,” he replies, “there was just the kitty.”

Shiro hums thoughtfully.

“This guy isn’t a stray, he’s very polite. And chatty.”

Matt looks the cat over. “Intact, though,” he notes. “After we get him scanned for a microchip we’ll have to schedule him for a neuter.”

Shiro’s eye twitches. “We’re almost out of grant money.”

“I know. Maybe we can work something out with Nancy.”

Matt chews a fingernail and looks at the cat.

“What is it, kitty?” The cat’s ears are flattened against its head and it’s staring at them, pupils dark against the pretty blue of his eyes. Matt gets on his knees and holds out his hand, clicking his tongue.

The cat shakes its head, like it's snapping out of a daze, and creeps forward to sniff at Matt. It allows him to scratch between its ears and stroke along its back.

“Handsome boy,” Matt coos. “Isn’t someone missing you?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Shiro said.

A rumbling purr starts up from somewhere deep in the cat’s chest and Shiro and Matt exchange besotted glances. Shiro crouches down to pet him and the cat winds between the two men, accepting all petting magnanimously.

Matt sets up a litter box and shows the cat where it is, and the two men slowly return to their normal afternoon activities. Shiro’s normal afternoon activity was frowning at his thesis, but it's interrupted by the cat jumping into his lap and demanding affection.

Shiro scratches under his chin and feels some of the tension melt out of his body. The cat kneads his thigh, claws plucking at the fabric of his jeans, and blinks blue eyes slowly at Shiro, who blinks back, knowing it's cat body language for 'I trust you.'

“You need a name.

“You’re a nice, polite boy who’s going to make someone very happy,” Shiro continues on somewhat mindlessly, enjoying the exchange of affection with the newcomer. “What’s a good name for a handsome guy like you? Felix?”

The cat sneezes. It almost sounds like a laugh.

“Ok, maybe not. T’Challa? Smudge? Thunderstorm Darkness?”

The cat tilts up his chin and stares at Shiro, looking unimpressed.

“How do you do that?” Shiro mutters. “Anyway, we’ll figure out a nice name for you soon.”

The cat crawls into his lap, places two paws on his chest & licks his chin with the rasp of his sandpaper tongue. Shiro makes a noise like air being let out of a balloon, and the cat sneezes again before curling up in his lap, his tail over his nose. The cat’s purr rumbles.

Shiro fears the sweet black cat may become a “foster failure,” and he will end up falling in love with the kitty.

He enjoys the warmth and the purrs while he works for a few hours on his thesis. The hours seem to pass more pleasantly with his current company.

Darkness falls and Shiro knows he needs to get some sleep. He feeds the ferals in a colony a few blocks from his apartment every morning, but tomorrow he also has to TA Professor Slav’s intro to theoretical physics class. Slav - brilliant but bizarre, Shiro was used to him.

Shiro hates the intro course, though. For every future engineer or physicist, there're 12 hungover, sullen upperclassmen just trying to get their science credit before graduating. He grumbles to himself before gently moving the cat off his lap. “Bedtime,” he mumbles at the cat.

The cat, which Shiro still hasn’t come up with a name for, hops off the couch and stretches sinuously before looking at him.

Shiro stretches, himself, and yawns, scratching at the hair just under his belly button. He plods down the hall to his room, the cat not far behind.  
He opens the door and the cat leaps onto his pillow like he belongs there. *

“Okay,” Shiro said to the cat. “No spraying, got it?”

The cat ignored him, seeming to keep its gaze averted as he changed for bed. He crawled under the covers and found an unclaimed bit of pillow.

“G’night, Kitten,” Shiro murmured as he was lulled to sleep by the steady vibration of the cat’s purring.

Keith waited until he was certain both Shiro and his roommate were asleep before slinking to the bathroom, transforming back and relieving himself. He could stomach the canned food but he would draw the line at shitting in a box unless there were no other options.

He flushed the evidence, hoping if either roommate heard, he thought it was the other, and let his cat form out before returning to Shiro’s room.

Keith figured he had a few days to rest here at the home of the handsome, animal-welfare minded grad student.

He would have to disappear before they could get him in a pet taxi and have him ‘altered.’ No thank you, he thought with a shudder.

Keith had seen Shiro around the city, feeding strays and looking adorable in his baby professor garb. He may have followed Shiro home once.

Keith had tried very hard not to ogle Shiro while he was in cat form. He had behaved very well until the man had gotten up to stretch, revealing his flat stomach and enticing happy trail. Keith was just glad cats couldn’t blush.

Keith coasts along in cat form for several days like this, shamelessly, but innocently, cuddling with Shiro whenever possible.

One afternoon, Matt and Shiro plan when they will take Keith in to their local shelter to get vaccines and get neutered. Keith knows it’s time to go.

The problem is he doesn’t know WHERE to go. He’s been spoiled here; his cat form had already filled out a little after days of good food. And he is going to miss being around Shiro. The grad student is genuinely kind. And he scratches behind Keith’s ears just right.

Keith waits until the apartment’s residents have left for the day and then transforms, stealing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from the clean laundry. He’s just about to leave when the door creaks open. Shiro walks back in and stares at him. “What the - why are you in my house?”

Keith, frozen, contemplates lying. Would it in fact be better to say he’s a burglar?

After a long moment of hesitation, he sighs.

“I’m Keith. I’m — uh, I’m your cat.”

Shiro’s pretty eyes flick from the barefoot man standing in his living room to the places the cat had enjoyed sitting during his short stay in the apartment. Finally, he opens his mouth.

“Bullshit.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith explains himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey kiddos, here’s chapter 2. This is unbetad and copied directly from my twitter, so it’s entirely possible I will come back and clean it up someday.  
> Also please don’t look too hard at the plot, it’s just not that deep.  
> Come yell about sheith with me at twitter.com/rorom1r

Keith groans and scrubs his hands over his face.  
“Look, I’ll — I’ll show you, okay? Just — maybe sit down or something.”

Shiro crosses his arms and leans his hip against the couch. His lips twist with skepticism, but he nods at the intruder to go ahead.

Keith closes his eyes on a sigh and returns to cat form.  
It looks like a mirage. One second, there’s a slender guy standing there; a shimmer, followed by the sound of clothes and four cat feet hitting the floor.

Then the black cat peeks his head out from under Matt’s shirt and meows balefully.

“What the fuck,” Shiro says faintly.  
The cat suddenly darts away, and Shiro gasps.

“Wait!”

The cat runs into his bedroom and a moment later, his human form ducks around the door jamb, blushing.

“Can you, uh, hand me those clothes? The clothes don’t come with when I shift.”

Shiro hastily scoops them up and hands them to the man, his eyes tracing over one bare shoulder before he stares at the wall, eyes wide.

“I’ll just be in the living room.”

Shiro sits down on the couch slowly, afraid if he does anything too hastily his world will come even more unhinged.

He stares at the spot on the floor where the purported burglar turned into a cat before his eyes.

Heh. Cat burglar. Shiro snorts before he can stop himself. He’s sure he looks like he’s having a psychotic break, laughing to himself and staring at the floor.

Maybe he is.  
He glances up at the sound of the man — Keith, right — walking lightly down the carpeted hallway.

Keith sits on the other end of the couch haltingly and peeks up through unruly black hair.

“I can explain?”

Shiro, despite himself, is absurdly endeared by the man.  
He clears his throat.

“Please do,” he says firmly.

Keith flinches a little under the commanding tone but recovers in a moment.

“Right. So, uh, I’m a shapeshifter? And I needed to lay low for a while. I’ve seen you feeding the strays and I thought I’d be safe here.”  
Shiro pushes away the flush of pleasure that Keith trusted him even though he hardly knew him.

“What are you laying low from?”

That’s more important to suss out right now than when Keith saw him out and about.

Keith sinks into the couch cushions.  
“I go to Garrison, and I fell behind on tuition. I took out a private loan, but it turned out to be these loan sharks, the Galra? And they’re kind of after me. And now I’ll never finish school.”

He pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms tightly around his legs.  
Shiro’s brow furrows. He knows there are thousands of students who struggle with loans, but the office of the bursar SHOULD be helping students find non-predatory options. The fact that Keith is being pursued by loan sharks is easier to focus on than the whole cat thing.  
“Okay. First things first: do you want some actual food? Since you’ve only eaten Friskies in the last 4 days?”

Keith just stares at him from behind the shelter of his knees.

“What?” Shiro glances away. “If you like the Friskies —“  
“No! I mean — it’s fine when I’m a cat, but —“ Keith shakes his head. “Why are you offering me food? Shouldn’t you be throwing me out?”

Shiro is the one shaking his head. “No, look. You need to get your feet under you. I work at Garrison. I can help with the loans, at least.”  
Keith keeps shaking his head.  
“I’ve already trespassed on your goodwill too long. I just need to borrow these clothes until I go get my things. Hopefully they’re still there.”  
He starts to get up, mindless of the fact that he’s barefoot, but Shiro holds up a hand.  
“Please.”  
Shiro looks so earnest it hurts.  
“Stay for today, eat some real food. We can go get your stuff and then talk to the bursar about getting you reinstated and on a payment plan. I can help; please let me?”  
Keith buries his face in his knees and lets out a long, weary sigh.  
His choices are to try to hack it on his own, which — that hasn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. Or he can accept Shiro’s help and probably die of shame and guilt.  
Keith hazards a glance up at Shiro, where he is still leaning against the couch, gazing down kindly.  
“O—okay.”  
Shiro’s smile in response makes Keith want to melt into the couch cushions.  
“So, um, you’re taking the whole ‘shapeshifter’ thing really well,” Keith remarks.  
“Oh, I’m deeply in denial,” Shiro responds with a crooked grin. “Compartmentalized that for now.”  
“Although I guess we can cancel your neuter appointment.”

Keith shudders.

“Please do.”

Shiro pushes off the couch and wanders into the kitchen, chuckling, and Keith hears the fridge and cabinet doors opening and closing. He takes a few deep breaths to try to calm himself.  
Getting caught by Shiro was ... stressful, and it had gone really well, comparatively. He still felt shaky and drained.  
He rose to his feet and padded into the kitchen, where Shiro was making soup and sandwiches.  
“Yum,” Keith says, and Shiro jumps a foot in the air.  
Shiro clutches at his chest.  
“Jesus, shit, you’re light on your feet,” he gasps. “I guess that’s to be expected.”  
Keith glares at his feet in chagrin.  
“Can I help with the food?”  
He wants to be helpful, since all he’s done is take in the last few days.  
“It’s pretty much done, just heated up some soup. Here, sit down and I’ll see if I can find you some shoes while you eat.”  
Keith does as he’s told.  
“Thank you,” he says, cheeks burning. No one has ever made such a fuss over him, not since — well. Not for a long time.  
“Hey,” Shiro says, sincerity glowing from him like a halo, “it’s no problem, Keith.” He puts a big, warm hand on Keith’s shoulder.  
To his horror, Keith feels his eyes sting. He grabs the sandwich and takes a huge bite. He nods his approval, eyes wide, as Shiro heads for the shoes.  
He hears Shiro rustling around as he wrestles his emotions back below the surface. It’s fucking embarrassing that that’s his reaction to someone being kind to him. He wills the surface tension of the tears in his eyes not to break, blinking rapidly.  
The food is good, too.  
After a few minutes, Shiro comes back with a pair of sneakers, some slide sandals and a pair of socks.  
“I wasn’t sure what size you are.”  
He sets the shoes down by Keith and sits down to eat his own meal. Keith knows the sneakers are going to be too big by looking at them.  
He pulls on the socks and adjusts the sandals so they’re as tight as possible. As long as he doesn’t have to run from anyone, he should be all right.  
Keith clears his throat.  
“Thank you. You’re very kind.”  
“Like I said, no problem. I do need to make a quick phone call though.”  
“After that, we can go get your things and hopefully start getting this straightened out.”  
Keith blushes with shame again, feeling like it’s all too much.  
“Whenever you’re ready,” he says weakly.  
Keith catches a few words of Shiro’s phone call — sounds like he’s asking Matt to cover for him. “No, no, I’m fine. I’ll explain tonight. Thank you. Yes, you’re the best, okay, bye.”  
Keith freezes when he realizes that means he plans to tell Matt his secret, too.  
He’s still frozen when Shiro comes back into the kitchen, briskly putting away the dishes from lunch.  
After a moment, Shiro notices.  
“Are you all right?”  
Keith looks up at him from under his eyelashes, curled in on himself.  
“Are you going to tell Matt about me?”  
Shiro stares at him for a few seconds. Keith finally looks away, glancing at a spot on the table.  
“I don’t have to tell Matt anything,” Shiro finally says. “Whatever you need to do to be safe. We can tell him you’re my ... cousin come to visit.”  
“Oh, that could work.”  
Keith straightens himself out and stands.  
“What will you tell him about me — I mean, cat me?”  
Shiro winces.  
“He’s going to be so upset I lost track of a cat.”  
They head out the door, and Keith leads Shiro along the route he took in his dash from the Galra goons.  
Keith can’t look at Shiro when he ducks behind the dumpster, nearly slipping on a frozen puddle of sludge. His clothes and shoes are still there, albeit covered in a filthy layer of frost and snow, frozen stuff.   
“Ok, here’s my stuff,” he mutters, clutching the meager pile.  
After a long moment of silence, Keith looks over at Shiro, who’s making an expression Keith can’t quite interpret. It’s not pity, which is good, because that would have pissed him off.   
“Is that all you have?” Shiro’s voice is quiet on the icy breeze.  
Keith pats the pocket of the jacket and finds his wallet, flipping it open to find everything is still intact.  
“Uh, I mean, theoretically I have like furniture and stuff, my dishes and shit, but they’re in an apartment I’m being evicted from, so...” Keith shrugs.  
“It’s been a tough semester.”   
He says it lightly, like it’s a joke, but it makes him tired in his bones to think about how easy it was for shit to snowball. And then he was a stray cat.  
Shiro makes a noise that’s not quite a laugh. They head back to his apartment.  
Shiro seems to gather his resolve as they drop off his depressing pile of possessions. Keith kind of can’t stand it. He knows he needs help, he’s the “fallen through the social safety net” poster child, but he doesn’t need to be anyone’s good deed for the day or whatever.  
He knows the thought is unfair to Shiro, who seems to do good things based on his own internal moral compass and not any kind of reward system. It’s why he’d come to Shiro in the first place. Keith forces himself to breathe and lower his shoulders, releasing his tension.  
He finally looks at Shiro after throwing the clothes in the washer.   
“Let’s go get your stuff,” Shiro says briskly, a stack of broken-down cardboard boxes and a roll of tape in his hand.   
“You don’t have to do all this,” Keith asserts.  
“It’s not a big deal,” Shiro says.  
Keith crosses his arms. It feels like a big deal to him, but he will find a way to repay Shiro. Grade essays for him or something.   
“Thank you,” he says. Shiro just smiles and leads him to his car, a hulking sort of Jeepish thing. Before Keith knows it, they’re at his old place


	3. Cats choose us; we don't own them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Shiro seems to want to help Keith claw his way out of rock bottom. 
> 
> Keith can't seem to tell him no.

Keith wants euthanized in cat form after the humiliation of finding out all of his things have been donated to Goodwill by his apartment complex already. Shiro is a silent witness to his shame, and when Keith realizes what’s happened, he turns on his heel and leaves.

“We can go get -“ Shiro starts to say.

“It doesn’t matter.” Keith cuts him off, the words aching in his throat. “I didn’t have anything I cared that much about anyway.”

Shiro makes a little movement like he’s going to pat Keith on the shoulder, but thinks better of it.

Keith swallows hard against the stupid, traitorous lump in his throat. 

It doesn’t matter, nothing he had in that shitty apartment mattered. He stares into the parking lot and rubs at watering eyes.

Fuck it all, he thinks.

He and Shiro catch a city bus onto campus, and Keith welcomes the time to gather his thoughts and get his traitorous tear ducts under control. He kind of wants to punch someone. But instead, he just tells himself he doesn’t care until it starts to feel like the truth.

He wonders how it is that Shiro seems to already be able to tell when he needs time to himself, given that Shiro has only known him for about a week, and most of that in cat form.

They ride the bus in companionable silence until they get to the oldest part of campus, where all of the administrative buildings are.   
Red brick and limestone, they soar castle-like amid the soaring oaks and maples and dwarf the dogwoods and redbuds.

Shiro leads Keith to the office of the bursar, where they take a number and sit in metal chairs, flipping through magazines that are at least 6 months out of date. 

“We’ll get this figured out, Keith,” Shiro says after Keith has sighed and shifted half a dozen times.

Keith bites his lip.

“It’s really kind of you to try to help me, but I’m not going to get my hopes up. The last few months have been a whole lot of waiting in chairs just like this to be told they can’t help me and in fact, someone like me doesn’t belong here in the first place.”

Shiro looks up sharply. “Someone like you?”

Keith nods. “Y’know. An orphan, a poor kid, they might as well call me a street urchin.”

Shiro, for a shocking moment, bears a thunderous expression on his face. Almost as quickly, he regains a calm mien. 

“Do you think you could remember which employee said those things?”

Keith looks at his socked toes peeking out of Shiro’s slide sandals. 

“Kind of hard to forget.”

Shiro nods. Their number gets called and they’re led back to a group of cubicles along a wall. Next to their cubicle, a chubby teen with long blonde hair is sobbing into a tissue while an associate looks on stoically.

A woman inputs Keith’s information, pulling his account up. She makes a sympathetic noise.   
“It does look like you’ll have to bring your account current before you can re-enroll. I see here that you’ve maxed out your federal student aid. Have you tried private loans?”

Keith huffs a laugh, looking at Shiro a little overwhelmed. 

“That’s why I’m here, I guess. I took out a loan through this place downtown, Galra Lending, and I paid them back but they’re asking for like a lot more in interest, and they drained my checking account and I don’t —“

Keith sucks in a breath when Shiro places a hand softly on his shoulder. 

“So I lost my apartment and I don’t have any way to pay for my classes, and these big dudes came around to threaten me.”

The woman goes abruptly serious. “Did you say Galra Lending?”

Keith looks at his own hands clenching his knees. 

“Yeah, the place on Kirkwood by the head shop. I lost my job and I wasn’t going to be able to make the payments for rent or tuition. So I went there. I thought I could get another job quick, but after the holidays...”

“People weren’t hiring. So I wasn’t able to pay the loan back as fast as they wanted.”

The woman nods. 

“Could you excuse me a moment? I need to speak with someone who can help you best.”

Keith exchanges an anxious glance with Shiro as she leaves. 

“She’s probably going to get Coran. He’s a supervisor and he can help you get back on track. And I can probably help you find a job, either in my department or at the shelter Matt and I work for sometimes.”

Keith doesn’t know what to do with Shiro’s kindness. The last year has been door after door slammed in his face, and now Shiro wants to help, he feels undeserving.

“Why do you want to help me?” Keith says it so quietly he almost can’t hear himself over his heartbeat.

Shiro squeezes his shoulder, but not like in a bone-grinding way. It’s reassuring somehow. 

“I’m an orphan, too. I got in some trouble, and the Holts — Matt’s family — they just kind of made me one of them. They wouldn’t *not* help me.”

Shiro smiles, a little crooked, as he reminisces. 

“I came to school angry with a scarred body and missing an arm and my parents. They helped me through a rough time, and so I try to like, give back. Matt and I help this woman who runs a rescue nonprofit.”

Shiro studies Keith’s face, gaze steady. 

“Will you let me help you, too?”

Keith murmurs “okay” helplessly, because how could he say no when Shiro looks at him like *that*? Keith spares half a moment to fear the power Shiro could wield with just his big, gray eyes before a tall, pale man with a huge ginger mustache walks up.

“Hello, Shiro, my boy!” He takes hold of both of Shiro’s shoulders and rattles him bracingly in greeting. Keith shrinks away preemptively, feeling his hackles raise at the man, who wisely doesn’t subject him to the same treatment as Shiro.

“Hi, Coran,” Shiro says soberly. “This is my friend, Keith. I hope you can help him.” 

Coran takes a seat, smooths his mustache and nods. 

“Hello, Keith, I’m Coran Heironymous Wimbleton-Smythe, I’m a supervisor here. Ms. Githinji said you’ve run into some trouble with the Galra?”

“Um. Yeah.” Keith explains, and Coran takes notes, nodding and asking a question or two. 

“What we are going to need to do next is notify the police,” Coran says.

“No! You can’t do that.” Keith’s breaths start coming faster. “They are already coming after me. They’ll kill me.”

Coran holds his hands up. “We’re not going to let that happen, Keith.”

He explains there’s a whole task force devoted to the Galra operation’s less-savory lending practices, and Keith will probably be under police protection for a while.

He says the man in charge of the task force, Detective Kolivan, is trustworthy. That he will protect Keith and help him, too. 

“I would like to make the call, Keith. Are you all right with that?” Coran waits, a serious expression on his face.

After a long moment, Keith nods.

Coran invites them into his office, a shoebox-sized space with a smallish circular stained glass window featuring highflown collegiate motifs. The reds and blues of the glass cast a soothing shade over the office. Coran offers them water and mints and steps out to call Kolivan.

Keith sighs, a long, drawn-out expression of how overwhelmed he is. He really wants to shift and curl up on Shiro’s pillow, or better, his chest, until this whole thing blows over.   
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” he says to Shiro instead.

Shiro looks at him steadily. 

“I’m not. I’m glad you crossed my path.”

Keith snorts. 

“I thought we were about to have a moment, then you hit me with the black cat jokes.”

Shiro grins brightly at him.

“Couldn’t resist. In all seriousness, though, I’m truly happy you came to me. I’m glad to help.”

Keith is speechless, but Coran saves him by returning. 

“Detective Kolivan wants you to come to the station, but he is sending an officer to escort you,” Coran says with a twinkle in his eye. “I know this is a serious matter, but what fun to experience riding in a squad car!”

“I already have,” Keith says, deadpan. 

Shiro coughs, a noise that sounds suspiciously like a stifled laugh. 

“Me, too, actually.” Keith whips his head to look at Shiro, who grins despite himself.

“Oh, well, wonderful, another thing you both can talk about,” Coran replies, distracted by pawing through a pile of official-looking papers on his desk. “Because of the security issue, the detective wanted you to stay here in my office until the officer gets here. Would you like anything to drink? I have coffee, water or juices.”

“Oh, coffee, please,” they respond simultaneously.

“Oh, you’re like an old married couple!” 

Keith feels his cheeks heat up and does not look at Shiro.

“Coran...” Shiro sighs.

“Oh, I’m going, I’m going,” his voice fades as he’s already halfway down the hall before his door clicks shut. 

Keith looks at his toes in Shiro’s socks. 

“Sorry about him,” Shiro says. His ears are pink. “He’s known me for a long time.”

“It’s no problem.” 

Keith looks around the office and spots an old metal toolbox. He starts to poke through its contents, restless, until Coran returns carrying two steaming mugs and a caddy full of sugar packets and that non dairy creamer powder.

“Here you are, lads!”

Shiro busies himself with adding an alarming amount of sugar packets, but Keith drinks his coffee black. He breathes in the steam and then takes a scalding sip. 

It’s bracing after the morning he’s had. 

“So, Mr Coran, you know Shiro well?”

Coran smiles widely under his orange mustache.

“Oh, my yes! Young Shiro here was quite the rascal as an undergrad, but he’s become an indispensable part of our staff.”

“A rascal, huh?” Keith smirks. 

“Absolutely. Let me tell you about the time he challenged the dean to —“

His phone rings. 

Shiro sighs in visible relief as Coran answers, relaxing back against the chair with his chipped Garrison mug.

“I will bring them right down! 

“There’s an officer at the front desk waiting for you. Are you ready?”

Keith drinks his coffee as fast as he can.

They head to the high-ceilinged entryway, where a uniformed officer is waiting conspicuously. Patrolman Serrano has a low bun pulled back tightly and a serious demeanor, but Keith wonders if she might be related to the mouthy kid in his engineering class.

Serrano leads them to her squad car, and Shiro and Keith have a silent battle to make the other take the front seat. 

The officer lowers her aviators and intones, “would one of you get in the seat, please?” 

Keith shoves Shiro toward the bucket seat and climbs into the back.

It’s a short ride from campus to downtown, and Keith enjoys the quiet moment despite his view of the cage and plexiglass of the car. He’s not in cuffs, so it’s definitely the best ride in a police car he’s ever had. The heater is blowing gloriously hot air on his cold toes.

Patrolman Serrano leads them to a sparse office and offers them coffee again, but Keith declines. He’s nervous enough as it is, he doesn’t need a caffeine overload giving him artificial jitters.  
It’s a short wait before the detective walks in. He’s huge.

He introduces himself as Detective “Call me Kolivan” and asks Keith to start from the beginning, pulling a reporter’s notebook from inside his threadbare sport jacket.

Sharp eyes dart from his notebook to Keith, from his face to his body language. Keith realizes he’s hunched over himself, a foot jiggling nonstop, as he retells the story of how he fell ass-first into owing the least ethical loan outfit in town.

Despite his probing gaze, Kolivan is not verbose, responding with “hmms” and grunts whenever possible instead of using words.

He writes just a few words at a time. He nods as Keith retells the last few days, minus the part where he spent most of it as a domestic shorthair.

Keith finishes up and Kolivan nods, putting down his notebook.

“Do you have a place to stay?” His deep voice is level and Keith doesn’t detect pity. 

“He’s staying with me,” Shiro says firmly. 

Keith turns to him, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

Shiro nods. “Besides, you promised you’d feed the feral cats with me. No take backs.”

Keith feels a small smile break free of his restraint, and a warm feeling in his chest. 

“I guess that answers that,” he says, turning back to the stoic detective. 

“Ok then. We will keep extra patrols in your neighborhood. And here’s my card,” Kolivan says, writing something on the back. “This is my mobile number — don’t abuse it — but if you see the men who threatened you, call 911 and then call me.” 

“Thanks,” Keith says, oddly touched. 

Kolivan grunts. “Be safe.”

Another officer gets roped into playing taxi driver and ferrying them back to Shiro’s car at Keith’s old apartment complex. After they’re dropped off, they just look at each other over the hood of the Jeep for a minute.   
“I need a pizza,” Shiro declares. “And some wings.”

Keith can’t help but smile at him before climbing in. He’ll add the food to his mental tally of all of the kindnesses Shiro has inexplicably decided to bestow on him. 

After they eat, discovering they share a favorite pizza joint in a college town clogged with options, Keith feels stuffed and should feel at ease, but he’s restless. He wants .... he wants to be a cat and snuggle with Shiro. But there’s no way in hell he can do that now, now that Shiro knows what he is. 

Keith frowns at the floor. If only they weren’t such responsible cat carers.

Damn Matt and Shiro for wanting to prevent cat overpopulation, right? Keith snorts at himself. 

“What are you thinking about?” Shiro asks, head tilted adorably.

Keith hums. 

“I... um, I was thinking I kind of want to shift and curl up somewhere safe right now.”

“Oh, okay. Where feels safest?”

Your chest, Keith thinks. He feels his face heat.

“Um, your - your room?” 

Shiro’s soft smile could end wars. 

“That’s fine, Keith. I can just chill out here.”

“No, I —“ Keith swallows hard. “I want you there. Too.” 

Asking for things is hard. Especially when Shiro has already given him so much.

“Okay,” Shiro says. He looks awkward for a moment, like he wants to say something but he’s afraid to. Keith knows the feeling well recently.

“What’s up?” he prods. 

Shiro gains some courage.

“Can I see? Your shift?”

Keith knows his face and his neck have to be red right now.

“I mean, okay? It’s just, I don’t usually wear clothes when I shift. Don’t want to get tangled up.”

“OH. Oh. Ok no, nevermind, I’m so sorry,” Shiro says, his ears an adorable pink. 

“I can just wear shorts,” Keith says.

“If you’re comfortable with that,” Shiro says. 

Keith just nods. “Just - give me a sec?” 

Shiro must be really interested in his abilities if he wants to see him shift again after the first time.

Keith hurries into Shiro’s room and takes off everything but his boxers.

He waits for a minute, antsy, then calls out “Shiro?” making a neat pile out of his borrowed things.

Shiro knocks on the door jamb like Keith isn’t in Shiro’s own room and gulps.

“Ready?” Keith asks. For some reason, Shiro’s ears are even redder, but he nods.

Keith relaxes.

That’s the best way to describe it. Becoming his cat form is like taking off the weariness and the stress of his long, awkward, uncomfortable day.

He doesn’t super know what it looks like, when he shifts, but resolves to ask Shiro when he can speak again.

He shakes his back paws.

His borrowed boxer shorts have gotten caught around his back legs as he shifted, just as usually tries to avoid. He hears a stifled noise and looks up to see Shiro valiantly trying not to giggle.

“Cute,” he whispers, coming forward to release Keith’s legs.

Keith hops on the bed.

He looks at Shiro expectantly. 

“Oh,” Shiro says. “Let me go get some things."

Keith sits on the comforter and waits. It’s easier to be still and patient in this form. He doesn’t think so much.

Shiro comes back with a backpack and pulls out his laptop. He stretches out on his bed and looks at Keith. 

“Where - uh, where do you wanna sit?” 

Keith examines his options but still doesn’t feel right sitting *on* Shiro. He curls up next to the man, back and flank pressed tightly against his warm thigh. A purr starts up within his chest, without his permission.

He peeks over at Shiro, who seems to be reading intently, but his lips twitch with a small smile. 

Keith flicks his fluffy tail over his nose and hides from the sight of Shiro’s mild teasing.

“Hey.” Keith looks up at him. “Thank you for trusting me. You’re okay; you can rest.”

Keith feels a warmth that has little to do with Shiro’s body heat.

He relaxes and before he knows what is happening, he’s twitching awake to the sound of Shiro’s alarm. 

Shiro groans hoarsely and shuts off the alarm. 

“Time to feed the ferals,” he rasps out. 

Keith opens one eye.

Like hell it is, he thinks; the sun hasn’t even risen. He curls back up and sticks one claw in Shiro’s pant leg to hold him there. 

“C’mon, Keith,” Shiro laughs quietly. “You promised.” 

Keith whaps his tail against the bed twice but then hops off of it, snagging the boxers in his teeth and trotting into Shiro’s bathroom. He shifts back, hissing at the chill of the floor tiles on his human feet, and yanks the boxers up his legs. He stumbles out of the bathroom and runs straight into Shiro, who grabs his arms to steady him.

Keith freezes in his bed-warm grip and Shiro releases him when he is steadied. 

“I’m just gonna,” Keith says, edging around him, and Shiro stares over his shoulder as he replies “yep, okay, me too.”   
Keith pulls on yesterday’s clothes and tries not to burn up from chagrin.

He hears the sound of cat kibble pouring and wanders into the kitchen, where Shiro is filling a drywall bucket with food. He stacks battered food bowls into a tote bag and hands the bag to Keith, who follows him silently outside. They climb into the cold Jeep and drive downtown.

Keith’s eyes drift closed 3 times during the short trip, and he snuggles into the warm hoodie he borrowed from Shiro. Dawn is starting to peek through when they arrive downtown, and there are already a few of the more friendly cats waiting when they clamber out of the Jeep.

"Do you know any of them?" Shiro smirks a bit.

"Oh yeah," Keith snarks back, his voice rusty with sleep still. "George there is a real asshole. Very food aggressive."

They make quick work of laying out the bowls and filling them with food, visiting 3 or 4 areas.

A lot of the cats hang back, skittish, but a surprising amount come up to them. They are all colors and sizes, but most of them have a notch cut out of their ear. 

"Why are their ears like that?" Keith wonders.

"It means we've caught them, altered them and released them."

"Altered..." Keith shudders.

"Yes, well. Hopefully you're not contributing to the pet overpopulation problem." Shiro's cheeks redden. "Although that's none of my business, really, and I'm gonna stop talking now."

Keith wrinkles his nose before bursting into laughter.

"You don't have to worry about that," he says between giggles. "Girls aren't my type, cat or human."

He chuckles to himself all the way back to the Jeep.

Shiro starts laughing with him at some point, though he still looks embarrassed. Keith just can't believe he asked.

When they get back, Keith finds himself yawning. 

"Why don't you go back to sleep?" Shiro suggests. "I've got to run a few errands."

Keith is more than happy to crawl back into Shiro's bed, though he stays in human form this time. Shiro says goodbye and Keith's eyes close.

He doesn't know when he got so used to sleeping in Shiro's bed, but it's going to be a problem when he has to stop falling asleep surrounded by the smell of Shiro. 

But that, Keith thinks, is a problem for later Keith.


End file.
